The flames wavered, and she imagined she could see Old Sam’s face among them, those dark eyes with that customary expression of cynicism she now understood much better. She imagined that shit-eating, devil-worshipping grin spread across that narrow face. He’d been Puck and the Park his fairy land, although that comparison brought an involuntary grin of her own to her face. But he had certainly been a knavish sprite during the time she knew him, and he had lived his life believing what fools his fellows were.